Dark Times
by Veralidaine Sarrasri1
Summary: Hermione's parents are dead, and she's in a state of depression. Can the only man who can relate to her help her out of it? R for language and dark themes
1. Default Chapter

CHAPTER 1 Dark Times  
  
Snape stalked quickly towards his classroom, books clenched tightly in his arms. How dare Trelawney even suggest such a thing! Him, betray the castle? It had been a close call, Voldemort getting into the castle, but that did not mean that he had had inside help. The previous day, Voldemort and several Death Eaters had broken into the school, and had killed three people, two students and the Astronomy teacher. The whole castle had been extremely upset, and the Potter boy had gone into hiding, presumably with that accursed godfather of his. Weasley and Granger were distraught. They had not even been permitted to know where he had gone. At the staff meeting today to discuss further defense of the castle, Trelawney had hinted that someone had helped Voldemort get inside. An uproar had ensued, and Trelawney had been dragged out of the room, screaming that Severus had done it. Severus walked faster, as though trying to run away from his past and the events of the last two days. Voldemort knew now that he was a spy, for he had been seen fighting the Death Eaters. Everyone in the castle had heard Trelawney screaming, and now thought him a traitor. No matter where he turned, he only had enemies. Even the students in his class feared him. Even the Slytherins cowered from him. In his haste, Snape did not see the girl standing silently in the corridor, staring out the window. She was gaunt and sad-looking, eyes haunted by shadows that w ere carefully concealed from everyone else during the day. Her eyes had been that way for a year now, ever since her parents had been kidnapped. She had been sent a Pensive by Voldemort, and had witnessed her mother's last moments. Her father had died bravely, his last words the names of her mother, Heather, and his daughter, Hermione. Her mother had been raped, and tortured many times. She had almost gone insane from the Cruciatus curse, but had hung on until the last. No one else knew of he pensive but the girl, Hermione. But since that time, she had been even more depressed than when her parents were reported dead by the Aurors. She was careful to hide it from others, of course, but the shadows were still there. She spent her free moments staring out of windows, or thinking alone in her room, or burying herself in books in the library. Gone were the days of adventuring and danger with her friends; she knew now that it was all in vain. Everyone was going to die anyway. And now Harry was gone. He had been her last anchor to reality. Ron had never understood her, and now that Hermione was drifting, he found himself hanging out more and more with Seamus and Dean. Severus did not notice this sad little girl as he made his solitary way down the corridor. He rounded a sharp corridor and slammed into her, knocking all of his books out of this arms and onto the floor. A small book fell out of Hermione's pocket and landed in the pile, unnoticed by either. "Watch it, girl!" Snape snapped. Hermione did nothing, just looked up at him with those forlorn, haunted eyes of hers that were now a darker brown than ever with depression. He felt a pang of guilt for snapping at her like that, but quickly pushed it aside. She was just a student, a seventh year. She was grown up enough to take care of herself. "Don't just stand there, help me pick this up!" he ordered. She bent to do so. She stood up at the same time as Snape did, and handed him the last of his things wordlessly. Snape nodded curtly and fled to his office, not noticing that Hermione had not noticed her little book. He shut the door firmly behind him and sat down in his favorite chair. He needed to write, gods he needed to write. He pulled his own small book out of the pile that he had set on the desk, and took out a quill from his desk drawer. He set it in an inkwell and opened his diary. Suddenly, he froze. This book was not his. The handwriting was the neat script that he knew so well, that of his least favorite know-it-all student. It was Hermione's diary. Snape was sorely tempted to read it. The teachers had been trying to fathom her now-marred mind for the past year, and this would help them to grasp how her mind worked now. They had tried counseling sessions, but the girl retained her brilliance and responded with carefully planned answers that left all of the staff, even Dumbledore, baffled. Yes. He could read it, but just to help the staff. Snape opened the diary to the first page and began to read. It started on the first day of school, about a month ago.  
  
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Sept. 14 Dear Diary, It seems silly to be talking to a book as though it were a person. I've always read about people doing it that way, but it seems stupid to me. I'll stop. This is just going to be a journal, nothing more. No secret spells that come form the nether regions of what they perceive to be my twisted mind, no black magic, no evil plots to overthrow the school.  
  
Snape stopped reading for a moment, surprised. This girl had a surprisingly good perception of how most of the school saw her now.  
  
Everyone is afraid of me now. I hear them whisper, ever since I knocked out that insolent little bitch of a fifth year Slytherin without even using my wand for insulting my mother. I don't know why I'm so violent all of a sudden. It might just be a byproduct of my depression or whatever the hell the teachers are calling it. I don't know.  
  
Sept 16 That Malfoy bastard tried to badmouth me again today. He only said about three words before I hit him with the Erectinius hex. It is a curse that I read about a while ago that causes men's dicks to shrink to the size of the one that they had when they were roughly two or so. It's quite painful, so I've heard. Something's bothering me. Normally, I would have been hysterical with laughter. But now I just stood by impassively, watching in silence as Malfoy writhed. I can't seem to feel anything anymore. I feel as though I am just a husk, incapable of laughter or joy or happiness of any kind. Those teachers that try and do the counseling crap, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Sprout, and Flitwick, would say that this is only passing, but I have felt it for a long time now, ever since the Pensieve. Though it ruined me, I'm glad I got it. I needed to know how they died. I needed to know that they did not cower or beg. My father' last words were of love, and my mother's were wishing forgiveness on those Death Eaters whose souls are doomed for eternity. I know now that they were compassionate above all else. I wish I had gotten closer to them. You never know when life can be whisked away, just like that. It can be deliberate, or it can be so simple a thing as tripping over a stone. Everyone says to live life to the fullest, but I don't have a life anymore. It ended with my parents'.  
  
Snape felt sympathy for the girl. He knew that feeling, himself. He had been living like that for the past twenty years, at least. Ever since he had found out what it had really meant to become a Death Eater. As Snape read, he felt he had come to know the girl more and more closely. She was depressed, yes, but still kept all of her brilliance. She was brave to live each day, facing the stares and whispered rumors of other students, and, yes, even teachers. She went through it all with her head high, even though she had no pride left. Snape was on the last entry. It was from yesterday.  
  
October 22 I hear all of the girls whispering. I've taught myself to lip-read, so I can see what they're saying. Most of it is about me, but not all of it. They've been giggling over a certain professor for the past week or so. It got me thinking about boys. I have never really loved anyone, not even Viktor. He was just a sort of fling, to vent some feelings, I guess. I've watched all of the boys in my year and in those below my year, but none of them seem-well, mature, though I'm not close enough to any of them to tell. I don't think I'll ever love, even if I do live long enough.  
  
Snape stared in shock at the last sentence. The poor girl. She must have so many bottled-up feelings that she had no room for either love of others or love of life itself. She used to be such a vibrant girl, so passionate and adamant. And that bit about living long enough. "SNAPE!" He jumped up, wand in hand. The door burst open and in walked a very angry-looking Hermione. "Yes, miss Granger?" Snape asked, eyes narrowed, trying to hide the diary behind his back. "You have it! You have it! Did you read it? Tell me you didn't!" Hermione sounded hysterical. Snape hesitated a moment before answering, but that was all the clever Hermione needed. "Give it here." Her voice was low and deadly, not unlike Snape's own.  
  
"Miss Granger, I-" "I said give it here!" Snape stepped back, startled at the vehemence in her voice. "Five points from Gryffindor for raising your voice to a teacher," he said automatically. "I think my cause is justifiable, Snape, when the teacher has stolen something of the students'," Hermione replied angrily. "How could you! Those are my private feelings-my private thoughts, my life! How dare you!" Snape stepped around the desk and opened his mouth to reprimand her, but Hermione drew back her hand to slap him. Snape caught her wrist adroitly, and Hermione suddenly burst into tears. Snape had never been in his situation before, and he did not know how to comfort a crying teenage girl. He did feel bad for her, however. All of the things going on inside her, all the emotional battles, must have been too much, and this had been the final straw. He patted her back awkwardly, and, much to Snape's surprise, Hermione flung herself upon him, sobbing hysterically. Snape patted her back some more, and finally the girl collapsed, exhausted. "You are in no shape to go back to your dormitory, Herm-Miss Granger," Snape said, catching himself before he addressed her by her first name. "I think that you should rest here for a while before going back." Hermione nodded, eyes still closed, sagging against her teacher. Snape hesitated for a moment, then picked her up and carried her into his private quarters. The living area had several chairs and couches, and Snape laid the pale girl on one of the couches. To his surprise, instead of stretching out as most people did, Hermione curled up into a little ball, knees against her chest and arms hugging herself. It was a strange position, that of a frightened child. At that moment, Snape's heart went out to the fragile girl, and he covered her with a blanket. He then sat down on a nearby chair to watch her as she rested, intending only to let her stay for a few minutes. But Hermione fell asleep before he knew it, and Snape did not have the heart to wake her. It looked like she had not been sleeping for a long while, and she needed rest. Before he knew it, he himself was nodding off, the crackling of the fire lulling him to sleep. Snape slept on the chair, and dreamt of his poor student who rested not five feet away. 


	2. Talks and Romancing

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing of the Harry Potter world, just the plot. A/N: Poor Hermione! Everyone feel sorry for her! Don't worry, she'll feel happier soon! Snape might seem a bit OOC, but he's really NOT evil, just misunderstood!  
  
CHAPTER 2 Talks and romancing  
  
The next morning, Snape woke with a start as one of his legs fell off of the chair he was sitting in and hit the floor with a thud. He glanced at the clock and realized with a jolt that it was 6:00 in the morning. He tried to stand and cursed as his leg reminded him hat he had not moved all night. His left leg was numb to the thigh, and Snape gritted his teeth and waited until the tingling receded from his leg. He stood up and went over to Hermione, shaking her gently by the shoulder. She jerked upright with a small cry, looking around with terrified eyes. "Hermione. Miss Granger," Snape said. "It's just me. We have to get back to your rooms." Hermione calmed and nodded, and stood quietly. Snape escorted her out of his chambers. "Will you be all right walking to Gryffindor tower by yourself?" h asked quietly. "Of course," Hermione said. She turned to go, and stopped. "Professor- thank you." She turned and fled then, and Snape sighed. He walked back into his office and took out a small glass mirror that he had spelled to reveal the whereabouts and activities of any person. "Hermione Granger," he commanded, tapping the smooth glass surface with his wand. A picture of the tired-looking girl formed in the mirror. He watched as she entered her common room, and to his surprise, no one looked startled that she had been away for the night. This implied that she was often away during the night, and Snape did not like this in the least. He would have to monitor her carefully over the next few nights. Snape watched her in the mirror for three nights, and she stayed in her tower the whole time, with no change in routine whatsoever. On the fourth night, however, she got into bed but feigned sleep until all of the other girls were out. Then, she arose and stalked swiftly and silently out of the tower, heading for another section of the castle. Snape cursed and watched her carefully, and realized that she was headed for the Astronomy tower. He threw on a cloak and raced out of his office, leaving the mirror behind. He took a few shortcuts, and came out of a corridor just behind the girl. He slunk along silently behind her, and watched her carefully as she climbed the stairs to the tower, still unaware of his presence. When she reached the top, she walked into the room and headed straight to one of the windows. Snape crept closer and hid behind a box, ready to jump out and pull her back it she showed any inclination to jump. She merely stared out of the window, however, leaning over the edge slightly. Snape wondered what she was doing, and she spoke suddenly. "I'm a coward," Hermione said softly, turning to face the spot where Snape hid. He knew that she saw him and stood up slowly, eyes never leaving her face, which still contained great sadness. "I want so much to end it all," she continued. "But I'm a coward. Living my life, pretending I'm fine. I can't do it anymore. But I haven't the courage to jump." Snape stepped forward, catching her upper arm and holding it. "You're not," he said firmly. "Suicide is cowardly. By living, you are being braver than anyone else here." "What about you?" Hermione asked, turning those shadowed eyes up to his. "I'm not brave," Snape said bitterly, looking away. "If I were brave, I'd tell Dumbledore what I did." "Why can't you?" Hermione whispered. "I can't tell anyone," Snape replied in an anguished voice. "Never." "Not me?" Hermione asked, sad eyes still upon him. Snape looked up in startlement. "You can trust me, Sev'," she whispered. "I won't judge you or betray you. I know too much of that." Grief flitted across her features, but it was gone in an instant. "I-I can't. Not now. Maybe later, but-not now." Hermione nodded, and looked back out of the window. Snape sighed in relief tinged with regret. If she ever found out-he would not be her enemy.  
  
He would be dead. Severus looked up as Hermione turned back around. "Professor?" she asked timidly. "Yes?" Snape answered, in a gentle tone. "Do you think, that sometime, we could just-talk, a bit? Maybe?" Her voice was timid and sad, as though she expected him to say no. This told Snape that, even though she was very intelligent, she was very insecure. That alone would have made Snape give what answer he did, even if he didn't already have s bit of a soft spot for the girl. "Yes, Hermione. Anytime. I'm here." "Always?" Hermione whispered, walking slowly towards him, as though scarcely daring to believe it. "Always," he confirmed. He swept her into a most un-snapelike hug and picked her up, carrying her down the stairs.  
  
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Over the next few months, Snape and Hermione talked a lot, mostly at night, when neither of them could sleep. He learned much of what she thought about things; politics, magic, muggles, boys. He told her of his days as a student and what his family had been like. They both enjoyed each other's company, and grew closer and closer. One night, Snape decided to ask Hermione something. "Hermione, do you play chess?" he asked as they sat across from each other, sipping drinks. "Yes, why?" she replied, waking up a bit. "Well, it just so happens that no one has beat me in over ten years," Snape said casually. The challenge hung in the air between them, and Hermione sat up in an instant. "Well, I'm sure that could be remedied," she replied lazily, her face betraying no emotion. Snape smirked and Summoned his chessboard. He conjured up a table and placed it between them, and laid the board flat. "Pawn to d-4," he commanded, starting the game. He grinned to himself as the pieces arranged themselves. This would be fun.  
  
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An hour later he sat bolt upright, staring at the board in shock. "What did you say?" he asked his partner, dumbfounded. "I said checkmate, Professor Snape," Hermione repeated, sounding smug. "B-but, you're only a student! E-even Dumbledore couldn't beat me!" he said, staring at her. "Well, I guess you've met your match, Professor," Hermione stated, and swept out of his rooms, smirking slightly. Snape seethed for a moment before laughing. He had gotten complacent! He would beat her next time.  
  
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Chess became a ritual for them. At about ten o'clock at night, Hermione would arrive at Snape's rooms, and he would set up the chessboard. While they were playing, they would open on whatever subject they wanted to discuss that night. After an hour or so, if they still were not finished, they took a break and had some drinks, usually juice or light wine. Hermione was particularly fond of Muggle champagne. Snape himself preferred vodka. Hermione had grown noticeably happier over the last few months. She began eating better, and some of the gloom had left her face. The shadows in her eyes were still there, however, and it was those that Snape most worried about. There was something there that no one knew about, he could tell. Something even worse than knowing her parents were dead. He knew that Hermione did not want to tell anyone about it, but as long as she kept it bottled up, the shadows would stay. He had to coax it out of her somehow. They had avoided talking about anything depressing so far, but as the chessboard set itself up one December night, Snape gently prowled around the subject. "Do you know any Dark curses?" he asked casually as she made the first move. Hermione jumped, confusing her pawn so that it landed on the wrong space. "Why?" she asked, sounding nervous. "Just wondering," he said, gently correcting her pawn. "Oh. Yes, I know a few." "More than a few, I'd reckon," he said shrewdly. Hermione nodded, smiling sadly. "I know a few myself," he continued, and her face went a tiny bit paler. "I-I know," she said, staring hard at the board. "When did you find out?" he asked softly. She looked up at him with startled eyes, and he did his best to look non-threatening. "A long time ago," she said, looking back down at the board. "And you trusted me?" "Yes." "Why?" Hermione didn't answer for a moment, then sighed. "I knew that you were all right, Severus Snape, the first time I saw you. You were cruel, yes, and sarcastic, but I knew that you were not evil. I have no idea how, or why, but I felt that I could trust you from very early on." Snape was startled by these words, and looked up into her face. Her eyes were completely sincere, and the shadows had fled for a single instant. Snape was caught in the beauty of her face, the seriousness and intelligence that resided in her eyes. Hermione was completely taken with her professor at that point. He looked so different like his, startlement clearly visible on his face. There were no masks, no layers of cold indifference. He was just.himself. She leaned unconsciously closer to him, caught in the heat of his gaze, and he leaned in as well. Before either of them knew it, their lips met. Hermione had kissed before, and she would say that she liked it well enough. But liking did not begin to describe the thunder that raced through her body, filling every inch of her. Sparks seemed to fly where their lips met, and for the first time in over two years, she felt happy, completely fulfilled. Snape was a bit shocked at first, but relaxed in an instant. He had not kissed in just over twenty years, but he remembered well how to. Hermione did not seem the least bit afraid of him, which was what startled him the most. After all she had heard about him, he would expect that she would stiffen and run. To Snape's even greater shock, she slid sideways and out from behind the table to get nearer to him, never losing contact. All thoughts were wiped from his mind as Hermione put her arms around his neck, and he sighed into her mouth. Finally, he had found someone. 


	3. Libraries and Disastiers

Disclaimer: See Ch 2  
  
A/N: This story WILL keep just an R rating.I know the basics but not any of the finer points . . . any steamy scenes would probably be stolen without me realizing it. . . and Hermione gets to see Snape's library!  
  
CHAPTER 3  
  
Libraries and Disastiers  
  
They pulled away reluctantly, wanting to soak in each other's presence with all that they had. Hermione looked up into Snape's eyes, her own shining with happiness, and in that moment, he was caught, as effectively as though he had walked into a cage. He walked into this one willingly, though. Suddenly, her eyes darkened, and the shadows returned.  
  
Hermione stepped back and looked away, as if expecting Snape to yell at her.  
  
"I.suppose I'll.go now," she faltered, but Snape caught her up into a passionate embrace.  
  
"No, sweet, you don't have to go. You can, if you want to, but.I don't want to make you feel as though I want you to go. You can go or stay of our own free will."  
  
Snape had to approach this carefully. Student-teacher relations were frowned upon, and if she really did want to leave, of her own will, not just because she was afraid that he would get angry, then he did not want to force her into anything. Hermione did not show any inclination to leave, however. She just stood, clasped firmly in his arms, as though she never wanted to let go.  
  
That night, she stayed in his rooms again, on the couch as she had last time. But unlike last time, she fell asleep cradled in his arms, peaceful at last.  
  
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Hermione woke with a start, looking around the room. It was not her room, that was for sure. There were dark black, green, and silver hangings on the walls, and embers from an old fire still giving off slight heat.  
  
Hermione jumped as she felt something move behind her, and she remembered instantly where she was, and whom she was with. She was in Snape's arms, with her back against his chest. She could feel him breathe, and grinned when she realized hat he did not snore.  
  
Hermione also realized that this was the firs time that she had slept without nightmares for almost two years. She had actually managed to get a whole night's sleep, uninterrupted but screams or haunting shadows.  
  
Hermione sighed, still smiling. This just felt so.right, here where she was loved and protected from the shadows in this man's arms. He made her feel safe, and wanted.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Snape woke slowly, arms strangely numb. He realized instantly that he still cradled Hermione in his arms, and did not move for fear of waking her. This was so peaceful, just the two of them together like this. He had felt loved last night, loved, and not just needed. It was the first time he'd felt love in many years. Sure, other people needed him, like Dumbledore, but there was no love there. It was more like a father-son relationship, and an odd one at that.  
  
Hermione stirred, and Snape helped her to sit up.  
  
"Did you have a good night's sleep?" he asked softly, and she nodded.  
  
"Well, fortunately, today is Saturday, so we got to sleep until this hour. The day is ours."  
  
Hermione nodded in agreement, and stretched languidly. She levered herself up off of the couch and rubbed her eyes with one hand while running the fingers of her other hand through her hair in some attempt to tame it. Severus smiled and got up himself, also stretching. He walked over to Hermione.  
  
"I do have a bathroom, you know," he said. She smiled.  
  
"Where?"  
  
"Here, through my bedroom." He led her by the hand into his bedroom. When Hermione saw it, she gasped, stopping dead in her tracks.  
  
"I-I-I've never seen anything like this-"  
  
His room was not sparse and cold, as many believed it to be, but was instead covered in rich earth colors. Dark green covers lay on his bed, and deep brown, black, blue, and green tapestries adorned the walls. On the floor was a huge rug of brown and green, and the canopy on his bed was silver.  
  
"Like it?" Snape asked softly. Hermione nodded, awestruck. "Then hurry up and tidy yourself in the bathroom. You may Summon a brush or anything you need, or Transfigure it if you wish. When you come out, I'll have a surprise for you."  
  
Hermione smiled one of her rare smiles and darted into the bathroom. As she was freshening up, Snape set about taking down the wards to the door that was hidden in his bedroom wall.  
  
When Hermione came out, she saw that there was a beautifully carved mahogany door in the wall that had not been there before. She glanced questioningly at Severus, and he motioned for her to go in. The door creaked slowly open as she put her hand on it.  
  
Snape grinned as he watched her reaction to the room. Her jaw dropped and she stared around in amazement, eyes shining with delight. It was his private library, holding almost as many books as the school's library. The shelves were literally sagging under the weight of them all.  
  
Hermione walked over to a shelf and placed her hand reverently on the spine of an age-worn book.  
  
"Poisons and Potions of the Fourteenth Century," she breathed in wonderment. "Where did you get this? I heard that there were only about fifteen copies made!"  
  
Snape smiled. "It was in my family for generations. My father gave it to me as a Christmas present the year I turned eighteen." He smiled as he saw her move to another shelf, then another, all the time shining with delight.  
  
Hermione was lost in the shelves for a full ten minutes before she remembered where she was. "Oh, I'm sorry," she cried, turning to face him, looking slightly sheepish. "When I get in a library, I just-"  
  
"Perfectly understandable," Snape said, smiling at her. "I myself am prone to that. So, was I correct in my assumption that you like this room?"  
  
"Oh, yes," Hermione breathed. "It's-it's amazing!"  
  
"I do have quite a collection," Snape mused, also looking around. "But I have read most of these already. If you would like," he added, seeing hope shine in her face, "You can come in here anytime you want. I am not in here most of the day, but I come here often in the evenings, around seven or so."  
  
"Oh, I would love that!" she cried, throwing her arms about him and kissing him joyfully. "Thank you so much!"  
  
Snape smiled yet again (this was the most times he had smiled in a day, he thought), and hugged her back. She transformed entirely when she was in here. She was so joyful, and energetic, and enthusiastic; the shadows were momentarily chased form her eyes as a shine of delight filled them. She would have to come here more often.  
  
Snape spent the next hour showing Hermione around his immense library, pointing out where different books were. He had a lot of them too; Shakespeare, poetry, Potions, fantasy, reference, history, nonfiction, even a few of his old schoolbooks. Hermione spent the next hour and a half browsing though the shelves as Snape looked on, amused at her awe.  
  
"Hermione, love," he called regretfully at quarter to noon. "It's nearly time for lunch, and everyone will get suspicious if we don't show up."  
  
Hermione gave a small sigh of regret and emerged form behind a shelf, holding a Shakespeare play.  
  
"Can I borrow this?" she asked, showing it to him. He nodded, and she hugged him again. "Thank you! I've wanted to read this for so long, but the Hogwarts library doesn't have it! Thank you!"  
  
Snape smiled and patted her back. "That's all very well, but lunch starts in ten minutes. We'll have to hurry."  
  
Hermione nodded, and they started down the corridor together after Snape had reset the wards and covering spells to the door of that precious room.  
  
Breakfast was uninteresting as usual for Hermione. She kept shooting glances up at the Head Table to look at Snape. He looked down at her when he could, when none of the other teachers were watching him. They continued at this through breakfast, and escaped as soon as they could. Breakfast was a tiresome event nowadays. She did not eat much; she pretended to eat, to keep Severus happy, but she still had no appetite. She used a spell on her food during meals to send it to someone else's plate when Severus was not looking  
  
She really did not miss food, she realized; not anymore. She had not been hungry at all for about a month or so after the Pensieve, but then Harry had prodded her in to eating. Harry had been the only person that could make her eat, and now that he was gone, there didn't seem to be any point anymore. Hermione knew she was thin, but she didn't care. She ate something every day for his sake, but apart from that, she hardly ever ate. She couldn't taste anything, so what was the point? If it got too bad, she could use a Refueling Spell to get the nutrients she needed. She used one about twice a week, so she really didn't have to eat.  
  
Finally it was over, and they left hurriedly, heading back down to Severus's chambers. He was in his office, grading papers.  
  
"Can I help with anything?" Hermione asked. Severus jumped slightly, and looked up at her, surprised.  
  
"Well, actually, yes. There is a batch of first-year papers that need grading. I think that you can do it well enough, though I don't see why you'd want to."  
  
Hermione smiled and picked up the stack he had pointed to, sitting down in a chair pulled up to the other side of his desk. He wouldn't understand why she wanted to help, Hermione reflected. She just wanted to feel needed, like she was helping in some way, be it in the classroom or in a relationship, or even grading papers. After growing up in a school where all of her teachers just expected her to do things perfectly, since she was Hermione, the genius, who never missed a question, she liked to surprise people. She liked to feel like she was making a difference, not just meeting expectations.  
  
The work was dull and tedious, but it meant less for Severus. That thought kept Hermione's mind clear through the endless wrong and messy papers. She thought amusedly as she marked yet another answer wrong that Severus couldn't be blamed, really, for his strictness in the classroom. If all of these answers were wrong now, imagine how many failing grades there would be if he eased up!  
  
Hermione looked up as she heard Severus gasp. A cry escaped her lips when she saw her teacher doubled up in his hard, straight-backed chair in pain. He was clutching his left arm and all of his muscles were clenched. His teeth ground together so hard that Hermione feared they might break. Hermione grabbed her wand and ran around the desk to him, frantically leafing thorough her mind for something, anything she could do to help her love. 


	4. Harry Returns

A/N: Sorry I haven't written in so long! I was on restriction, and couldn't write or post. I wrote down like three more chapters by hand, and then I lost it!!! ( I'm retyping them, though. Don't give up on me!  
  
CHAPTER 4  
  
  
  
Severus was surprised when Hermione asked to help with grading papers, but was glad for the help. Papers were dull and repetitive, mostly owing to the fact that many of them had been copied off one another's. He watched her for a few minutes as she worked, head bent low over the papers, face serious and still. She looked so beautiful like that-all of her attention focused completely on something, her eyes deep and wise...  
  
Suddenly, he was wracked with excruciating pain. He tried to keep silent but gasped as another, particularly strong wave hit him. He doubled up in pain, clutching his left arm from which the pain emanated in a futile effort to ease it. His muscles went rigid and his whole body tensed. He felt blood trickle down his chin as he bit the inside of his lip.  
  
He knew that it was Voldemort, trying again to kill him. He'd had attacks like this ever since Voldemort had found him out. He could survive, if he didn't go mad with the pain...  
  
He felt someone's hand on his shoulder, a gentle hand. Who could it be, he wondered, through his pain. No one ever cared for him...wait...a woman, a girl, with brown hair and sad eyes...Hermione! Hermione! He had to live for Hermione...she needed him. He needed her.  
  
He vaguely heard a shaky voice whispering words that he could not comprehend, a spell, maybe? Yes, it had to be a spell, for in an instant, the pain lessened. It did not disappear, but just was toned down enough so that he could see again. Another whispered word, and coolness enveloped him, like he had been plunged into a pool of ice. It was relief at last.  
  
Severus sat up, wiping of his face with shaking hands. He looked around to see Hermione's tear-streaked face looking worriedly at him.  
  
"Sev', are you all right? For a moment, I thought...I thought...Oh, Severus!"  
  
She fell into his arms and embraced him, but gently, as Severus was very thankful for. He wasn't sure his body could handle any great pressure right now.  
  
She pulled away, sniffing. "What was that?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Voldemort," Severus answered grimly.  
  
Hermione gasped. "Does this happen often?"  
  
"About once a month or so," he answered with a shuddering sigh. "He's trying to get revenge for me being a spy."  
  
"Isn't there any way to stop it?"  
  
"No." Severus shook his head sadly. "The connection established by the Dark Mark cannot be broken, except in death."  
  
"And I hope that you do not plan on dying," Hermione said, another tear slipping down her cheek. "I don't know what I'd do without you."  
  
Severus said nothing, just held her closer, still trembling slightly from the aftershocks of his attack.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
A few days later, Severus had recovered completely from his attack, apart from moving a bit stiffly. Hermione worried about him, but he seemed completely well. He was even back to his old 'nasty' self in Potions.  
  
On Tuesday, Potions was their last class, and Hermione stayed behind on the pretense of wanting to ask Severus about her grade. After the last student had left, Severus waved his wand at the door, magically shutting it. He smiled as Hermione ran into his arms, kissing him happily.  
  
"Hard day?" he asked, laughing. Hermione nodded, hugging him around the waist. "It's just so lonely, now that Ron has stopped hanging around with me. We used to be such good friends-but now that Harry's gone-we have no real connection anymore. And after-my parents-"  
  
A single tear slid down Hermione's cheek, and Severus brushed it away with gentle hands.  
  
"Hermione, what happened to them wasn't anyone's fault, not yours, not Po- Harry's, no one's. The only person on whom the blame lies is Voldemort."  
  
"I know. But I can't help but feel that if I wasn't a witch."  
  
Severus gripped Hermione's shoulders and shook her slightly. "No. Don't ever think that. All Muggles are targets, not just parents of witches. It's not your fault."  
  
Hermione nodded, but was not convinced. She was glad for the distraction when a small black owl tapped on the tiny window up near the ceiling. Severus let go of Hermione and opened it with a wave of his wand, and the owl flew in. It dropped a package into Hermione's lap, and perched patiently on the back of Severus's chair.  
  
Hermione opened it and a cry of joy escaped her lips. "It's from Harry!" She began to read out loud, with Severus looking over her shoulder.  
  
"Dearest Hermione,  
  
I'm sorry you haven't heard from me before this. I've been trying to send letters, but Snuffles said that it was not safe until the fuss died down.  
  
"I'm in a safe place, with Snuffles. He's been keeping me company. I'm learning to be an Animagus! I should be able to transform on the next full moon. Snuffles is great company, but it's just not the same as you."  
  
Severus stifled a growl. He thought he could see where this was going.  
  
"Hermione, I just want to tell you that I miss you with all my heart, and I regret every moment that I ignored you or did not treat you like I should have. And, above all, I regret that I never got a chance to tell you how much I love you."  
  
Hermione gasped, and looked up at Severus. "No! This can't be happening! This-this-I can't handle this right now!"  
  
"Read on," Severus said, wanting to know what on earth this child was thinking.  
  
"I-I want you to know that I loved you from the moment I first saw you, back on the train. I wish that every moment could be spent with you. I hope to see you sometime soon. With all my love, Harry."  
  
"No." Hermione repeated. "No. He can't love me. And I can't tell him about us-he wouldn't understand."  
  
"Damn right, he wouldn't," a voice growled from behind them. Hermione and Severus whipped around, and Hermione gasped. There, looking malevolent stood Harry.  
  
"Potter," Severus hissed. "Why are you here?"  
  
"I wanted to see Hermione, you bastard," Harry spat. "But I never expected her to be down here with you. You evil, slimy git. She's half your age. How dare you even come near her, you-you-gigolo!"  
  
"Harry, no!" Hermione cried, moving to stand between the two fuming men. "Harry, he hasn't enchanted me or anything. I didn't drink any strange potions, and he didn't put any sort of spell on me! I love him, Harry," she added softly. "He's the only thing that makes me happy these days. Please, just leave us in peace."  
  
"How can I?" Harry spat, eves blazing. "Hermione, in case you didn't remember, he's the evil, horrible person who tormented up since first year, and made you cry once. And, he's old enough to be your father! Hermione, how could you? I thought you were my friend. But I come back to find that you're-that you're-the whore of Gryffindor! What, are the students not good enough for you? Do you have to sleep with teachers n-"  
  
Harry was cut off by Severus's hand at his throat. The dark man's eyes were blazing with a fury that matched even Dumbledore's scariest moments. He drew out his wand with his free hand and aimed it directly in between Harry's eyes.  
  
"Get out," he hissed in a deadly voice. "Get out of my dungeon. Leave. I never, ever want to see you back here again, even if you do someday come back for schooling here. Never! How dare you insult Hermione. Do you have any idea of what she's been going through for the past few months? You had no right! Get out! Leave now, before I do Voldemort a favor and kill you myself!"  
  
Harry's form blurred into the black owl, and he flew out of the window with a screech. Severus slammed the window behind him with his wand, clipping off a tail feather or two. Severus turned back to Hermione, only to find her gone.  
  
A/N: Poor Hermione!!! I was just so sick of Ron always being the one to flip out in SS/HG fics, and I wanted some way to get Harry kind of out of the way for the moment. More coming soon!!! 


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